Michael xXx The Call
by KittyoftheNight
Summary: A woman cries out in desperation. A cry for help, a plea, a prayer. Who would have guessed that she'd meet an angel, an angel named Michael, here for his last visit. How long will it last though? Not even Rose knows the answer to that question.
1. Chapter 1

**The Call**

**Chapter 1**

He stood there, merely watching from afar. This is what he'd been called for, a cry, a plea. He wasn't supposed to be here again, but he was. He was here again, one last time, his final trip. Then again, that's what they had told him last time, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. No, he was going to do his job, while at the same time relishing the world around him.

Tears fell from the young woman's eyes as she settled herself against the outside wall, head bowed as the rain poured down on her head. She could feel the rain on her skin as it soaked through her cloths, droplets dripping from the tips of her hair as she held tightly to her stomach. Her emotions were running on high and she was hanging from a thread, dangling upon the edge of sanity. She was a mess, the only thing coming from her lips a quiver, and a prayer. It was a cry for help.

Her prayers were answered when the rain suddenly seemed to stop, a voice calling out to her.

"You know Miss, it's not wise to sit out in the rain," came the sound of a male voice, the tone light and friendly.

She found herself looking up, head turned toward the man before her as he crouched down, a small smile on his face. An umbrella was held over their heads as he sat there, a certain softness held behind his eyes, his coat skimming the wet ground. The umbrella didn't seem to do much for him though, but he didn't seem to mind as he kept it held above her head, shielding her from the further down pour of rain.

"W-who a-are you?" she managed to choke out, shivering as she sat there.

He smiled down at her before responding, a certain warmth in his voice.

"My name is Michael," he told her. "I'm a friend," he assured her, giving her a moment to process things. "What's yours?" he asked.

She stared at him for a moment, bitting her lip. Something about him told her that he was friendly. There was nothing deceitful behind those eyes of his. The question was sincere, that, and something told her she could trust him with it.

"R-Rose," she answered softly, voice shaky.

"That's a pretty name," he smiled, teeth showing through to reveal a set of pearly whites. "May I ask why you've been crying," he asked, his bright blue eyes meeting her own blue gray ones.

"I-," she started, before being interrupted by the sound of yelling, eyes becoming wide and scared.

"Why don't I get you somewhere warm?" he offered, reaching his hand forward for her to take.

Again, their eyes met, a strange feeling washing over her as she slowly slid her hand into his. Warmth seeped into her chilled hand as his fingers wrapped around it, gripping it gently as he stood, pulling her up with him with ease. He didn't miss the faint groan escape her though as she stood, her muscles stretching, and her bare feet scrapping the ground. The woman had no shoes or socks covering her delicate feet, ugly scratches and sores showing their face. They didn't seem to suit her, not one bit.

"Let's get you off your feet," he said, offering her a friendly smile.

She nodded quietly, letting out a tired, wary sigh. She was tired and weak, wishing merely to be somewhere else, somewhere far away from this place. As she made to move though, her legs gave out, a cry issued from her lips.

"Careful," Michael chuckled, causing her look up at him as he held her arms firmly in his hands, preventing her from meeting the ground.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she looked eyes with him, giving a heaving sigh. She was tired.

"Perhaps we should try something a bit different?" he offered, tilting his head to the side, a goofy smile on his face.

"Huh?"

Within seconds, she was in his arms, her own arms wrapping tightly around his neck in surprise as she let out a squeak.

"Don't worry, you're safe," he said calmly.

"How do I know you're speaking the truth?" she asked, a nervous tone raising in her voice.

"Look me in the eye and tell me I'm lying," he said simply.

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, meeting his gaze. Suddenly, a wave of calm washed over her, a strange sensation raising in her stomach. There was something in his eyes that caught her attention, something pulling at her brain. It was something that she couldn't place.

"Wha?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm lying," he said again, raising his brows slowly.

"I..." she started to speak, but stopped, giving him a curious look. "There's...something about you," she said slowly. "Different."

He smiled at this.

"It's because I don't lie," he said firmly. "Now, if you could just hold this for me?" he asked, gesturing to the umbrella. "I think you'd do a better job at it than I."

She nodded, carefully taking it from his hand, their fingers brushing as she did so. She didn't say anything else, merely resting her head on his shoulder as she kept the umbrella over their heads, the ran bouncing off of it. In fact, it was the rain that started to lull her to sleep, the warmth of Michael's body soaking her through and warming her. She didn't know why, but she felt safe with this man, this man whom had seemingly come out of nowhere to help her. Although, she didn't understand why anyone would jump to her aid. Especially, without asking anything in return. There always seemed to be some sort of catch, some lie hiding in their words. That didn't seem to be the case with Michael though. Something was different with him, even though, she wasn't sure what it was. She knew she was safe. So, with that, she closed her eyes and allowed her self to sleep.

**Okay everyone, let me know what you think. This story is for the movie Michael with John Travolta in it. If you don't know, John Travolta is the angel. It's a very good movie and my opinion. Anyway, PLEASE let me know what you think? REVIEW and MESSAGE me with your thoughts, opinions, ideas, and feelings on this chapter/story. Thanks everyone.  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**The Call**

**Chapter 2**

**Angel**

For hours, the blackness had been Rose's sanctuary, her safe haven. It slowly dicipated though as she stirred, eyes fluttering up and peering out into the room before her, the faint light from a curtained window shining through. It was not the light that she'd woken up to though, but the sound of snoring, her brows furrowing together as she looked around.

"Wha?"

Her eyes fell upon a man in the corner of the room, his body standing up against the wall. She couldn't understand how someone could fall asleep while standing up. She hadn't even realized that she'd been staring for so long, until a voice erupted in the air, causing her to jump.

"You know, it's rude to stare."

Rose felt herself stiffen as she sat there, watching him turning around, eyes falling upon her small form.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-," she was interrupted before she could finish.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, making to move toward her.

"Hm?" her brows furrowed together.

"I asked if you slept well," he said once more, moving forward until he was in front of the bed, easily pulling out a chair to sit in front of her.

It was curious though because he sat in it backwards, the back of it pressing lightly against his chest.

"Y-yes," she stammered, moving back a bit.

"Good," he smiled, leaning forward against the chair. "Now, come here," he said, gesturing for her to come closer with his finger.

She sat there for a moment, contemplating things, before finally obeying.

"O-okay," she said, slowly crawling forward, until she was in front of him.

She was startled though when he placed his hand on her face, brushing the sensitive skin below her eye and on her cheek, that was no doubt visible in the light.

"That's a nasty bruise," he mused, checking the rest of her face over.

She couldn't help, but shudder ever so slightly as he touched her face. It wasn't exactly that she was scared of him or anything, just unsure. No one was ever really that close to her. Well, strangers weren't anyway.

"Hm..." he started, gently taking hold of her arm and looking at it.

There, he found another bruise in the shape of a hand, the nasty mark marring her lovely skin. At that, she pulled away, almost ashamed.

"You know, who ever did this isn't very nice," Michael pointed out.

"You've no idea," she muttered, gently rubbing her arm, wincing as a result.

After that, Michael started walking around the room, opening up random drawers as though searching for something.

"Nothing here," he said, opening another drawer. "Or here," he continued, leaning down to open another one. "Ah, here we go," he grinned triumphantly, turning around with a pair of slippers in his hand. "I think these should help," he said, offering them to her.

"Huh?"

"You're feet," he pointed out, causing her to look down in response.

She found her feet to be bare, almost raw even. It also reminded her of last night, causing her to flinch. She'd run off last night after he had hit her, not Michael, but another. It was also why she hadn't any shoes on, she'd run off without them. It's what happened when he drank, something that she tried to avoid. Whenever he drank, he'd get mad and start yelling. It was the first time he'd ever hit, but that meant little to her as she set there before Michael. She wasn't going back to that, not now, not ever. Only problem was, he had a key to her apartment, a place where he'd frequently stay at random times. His excuse for staying there was that he didn't like being alone. So, for that, he'd stay out on the couch. Last night though, was one of the few times that she'd been over at his place.

"Rose?"

She jumped upon hearing his voice, turning her attention toward him.

"Huh?" she asked, blinking a couple times.

This time, he merely sat back down in front of her, carefully reaching out and slipping a slipper on her foot. He then did the same with the other one, letting her foot drop back down, a small smile gracing his features.

"Um, thank you," she said, slightly perplexed by his actions.

"Now, why don't I take you home?" he offered, getting up from his chair.

"You don't have to," she said, shaking her hands. "After all, you've already done enough for me."  
>"Rose, do you even know where you are?" he asked, raising a brow in amusement once he saw the look on her face.<p>

"No," she sighed, knowing that he had beat her.

T

"You know, you really didn't have to walk me home," Rose said, walking along side Michael down the sidewalk.

"Yes, but I wanted to. Besides, what kind of guy would I be if I let a nice young woman walk home by herself?" he asked, a friendly smile on his face.

She couldn't help, but to smile a bit as she walked along side him. He was so different from all the other guys that she'd ever met. At least, that's from what she'd seen so far.

"Michael?" Rose spoke up, turning her head to look at him.

"Yes?" he responded, looking back down at her.

"Why are you so nice?" she asked, before looking back down the street.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said, why are you so nice? I mean, I'm sure there's somewhere else that you'd rather be," she said, shoving her hands into her jean pockets, her fingers brushing against her house key.

"Is there something wrong about enjoying your company?" he asked, a charming smile on his face.

That made her stop, a look of confusion raising onto her face.

"How could you possibly enjoy my company?" she asked, a skeptical look on her face. "You barely know me," she pointed out.

"That may be so, but that doesn't mean that you're boring," he told her.

She sighed, shaking her head before continuing forward, dropping the conversation.

"Forget it," she said, turning the corner at the end of the street.

Michael followed right behind her, eyes never leaving her as she continued on. She was such a curious person, that much was obvious. Then again, she was used to one way as far as things working. She didn't expect people to pay her much attention, which is why she was so curious of Michael and his kindness. It was almost to good to be true. All thoughts ended though when they came to stand in front of her apartment building, a slightly stiff look coming from her. It was almost as though she were hesitant about something.

"Um, would you like to come in for a bit?" she asked, biting her lip.

She didn't know why she was asking him something like that, but something told her that she should.

"I'd love to," he smiled, nodded his head.

"Um, alright then. Follow me I guess," she said, pushing open the the main door and walking inside, Michael following along behind her.

The whole way up was quiet, Michael silent counting the number of door, making a mental note of where everything was at. Her apartment was on the third floor, leaving them climbing the steps upward, one or two people standing out in the hallways. There was even a couple kissing against a wall. Rose paid no mind to it though as she pushed by, walking down the hallway to her room.

_36_

That was her room number.

"Well, this is it," she said, pulling out her key and shoving it into the lock.

It opened a moment later, the door swinging to the side. She stopped short though upon walking in, her eyes landing on the person laying on the couch.

"Rose, there you are. I was wondering where you were," the man said, standing up from the couch and walking toward her.

Without even realizing it, Rose took a step back, walking into Michael. His hands easily found her shoulders, holding them gently in his palms.

"Who's he?" the man asked gruffly, eyes narrowing at Michael.

"A friend," Michael said, eyes watching him closely. "Now, if I may, who are you?" he asked.

"Jake, her boyfriend," Jake said roughly, reaching forward to grab Rose by the arm.

Michael beat him to the punch the moving her and grabbing his wrist.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Michael warned. "I don't think she wants to be touched right now."

Jake glared at him, wrenching his wrist out of Michael's grasp.

"Get off me!" Jake spat. "I can touch her if I want."

It was when he tried to grab her again though that Michael put a stop to it, shoving him away. That only angered Jake more and before Rose knew it, Jake punched Michael in the face, her eyes going wide.

"M-Michael?" Rose choked out, her body leaned up against the wall as she watched.

"Battle," Michael breathed, a happy tone in his voice as he as he dodged a second punch, before throwing one of his one.

All that Rose could do was stand there as Jake was thrown to the ground. He was back up on his feet though before she knew it, charging at Michael and ramming him into the wall, a lamp breaking in the countered though by grabbing Jake's arm and twisting it, shoving him back as Jake hissed. What scared Rose most though was when Jake pulled out a knife, lashing out at Michael without a second though.

"Jake, stop it!" Rose yelled, taking a step forward.

Jake ignored her though, lashing out at Michael again. Michael was quicker though, sliding out of the way as Jake kept lashing out.

"I said stop it!" she screamed, grabbing an empty beer bottle from the coffee table and throwing it Jake's way.

He barely dodged it, the glass shattering against the wall causing both men to stare at her. That gave Jake his chance though, quickly reaching out and grabbing Michael by his coat, the sound of fabric tearing coming to meet Rose's ears. A groan also escaped Michael's lips and Rose felt her eyes widen.

Within seconds, Michael threw Jake out the door, quickly locking it with the flick of his wrist.

"Michael?" Rose whispered, eyes glued to the soft shade of white in front of her.

"Something wrong?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Rose felt herself slide down the wall, eyes staring unblinking. A few feathers set on the floor, littering the wooden boards. She saw wings, white wings, and they were attached to his back.

"Rose?"

Michael's brows furrowed ever so slightly as he crouched down in front of her, hand waving in front of her face. She just blinked, staring at him.

"It's the wings, isn't it?" he asked.

That's when she opened her mouth to speak, opening it, before closing it again. She wasn't sure how to get the words out or what to say. In fact, she wasn't even sure if what she was seeing was even real.

"How?" she started, eyes flickering between him and the wings on his back, his coat long forgotten on the floor at this point. "What?"

She wasn't really sure where to even begin as she sat there, eyes never leaving him.

"What am I, right?" he said, asked her question for her, watching her slowly nod her head.

A grin slowly formed on his face.

"Well, I thought it'd be obvious," he said. "After all,I'm sure you already know _what_ I am."

"You're...you're an...an," she couldn't seem to finish.

"Angel?"

**Alright everyone, that was chapter 2. I hope that everyone liked it. I tried really hard on this one. Anyway, please REVIEW and MESSAGE me with your thoughts, opinions, ideas, and feelings on this chapter/story. I'd REALLY love to hear FEEDBACK on this. That way, I know if I got Michael right or not. Anyway, let me know what you think? Thanks everyone. Also, check out my other stories!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Call**

**Chapter 3**

**The Bar**

For about 10 to 15 minutes, nothing was said. Not a single word spoken between Rose and Michael. Rose wasn't sure what to think of the whole thing, but she didn't kick him out. Rose merely went about cleaning up the mess that had been made, picking up the broken pieces of glass from the wooden floor. She winced though when she cut her finger, pulling it back and placing it in her mouth. That was when Michael spoke up.

"Why don't you take care of that and I'll clean this up?" he suggested, moving forward to pick up the pieces.

She looked at him for a moment, watching as he knelt down, gathering the pieces in his hand. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held something within it.

"Yeah, sure," she said quietly, turning and walking into the bathroom.

She left him in the living room as she ran the water in the sink, letting it run over her finger. It stung a bit, but she ignored it, watching as the blood slowly merged with the water and down the drain.

Once she was sure that she'd rinsed the cut out enough, she turned the water off, leaning down and grabbing the first aid kit out from underneath the sink. She then took it back into the living room, nearly dropping it when she saw how clean things looked now. There was nothing left of the glass or broken lamp, everything already in the trash, leaving Michael standing in middle of the room without his coat. This gave her a perfect view of his wings.

"How did you..." she started, letting herself drop onto the couch as she stared, looking around the room.

Michael merely grinned, coming forward and settling himself down on the edge of the coffee table. He then took hold of her hand, looking it over in his. It had already started bleeding again, the blood slowly trickling down her skin.

"What it's like to bleed," he said quietly, talking to himself.

Without further words, he took the first aid kit from her and opened it, searching it quickly for some gauze and wrap. He found it quickly, taking the gauze and pressing it firmly against her finger, taking the bandage in his other hand and wrapping it around her finger a few times.

"Um, thank you," she whispered, eyes never wavering from his.

His movements had seemed automatic, not even having to really look at what he was doing, something else that had surprised her.

"Um, would you...like something to drink?" Rose offered after a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I saw a beer bottle earlier," he started, scratching his chin for a moment. "You got anymore?" he asked.

Rose raised an eyebrow at this, giving him a skeptical look.

"Beer?" she asked. "But you're an..."

"Angel. Yeah, I know. I get that a lot actually," he chuckled.

She just shook her head, standing up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

"An angel that drinks beer," she said to herself, shaking her head as she opened the refrigerator, pulling a beer off of the shelf.

Personally, she didn't really drink. The beer that was in the refrigerator was actually Jake's, not hers. Granted, she had bought it for him, but that was beside the point. She really didn't see the point in drinking and yet, ironically, she worked at a bar serving drinks. It was merely a job for her though, working at the bar and grill. It got her money and paid her bills.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him by the neck of the bottle.

He took it from her hand immediately, twisting the cap off and taking a drink. A smile found its way onto his face after a moment as he down it, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Wow," Rose breathed out, watching him the entire time.

Then, she remembered something, her eyes widening slightly.

"Dang it, I'm gonna be late for work," she said, quickly running off to her room.

Michael just sat there, watching as she ran off. He didn't say anything though as he heard her rustling around in her room, quickly changing into clothes for work. He was actually surprised that she hadn't ended up sick from being in the rain last night. Regardless though, he waited for her to come back out, intent on going with her.

T

As Rose hurried around, she found her mind wandering back to Michael. She wasn't sure what he was planning to do after everything was said and done. Sure, she'd asked him up to her apartment, but still.

"Come on, where is it?" she muttered, going through her dresser.

Eventually, she found what she was looking for, pulling out a red strapless top. She quickly pulled it on, before grabbing her black vest. It was her normal attire for work, something that had been asked of her. She didn't mind too much though because it wasn't like she was showing anything off, it was just standard dress really.

Thinking about that, she changed out of her old pants and into a pair of clean white wash jeans, pulling a pair of black ankle socks onto her feet afterward. That only left her pulling her black shoes out from underneath the edge of her bed, slipping them on, and tying the laces up.

"Alright, I think that's it," she nodded, standing up straight and heading out of the bedroom.

Upon stepping out, she found Michael standing near the door, coat in his hands as he looked over the tear in the shoulder. It was obvious how much he liked the coat and wasn't about to get rid of it for a new one because of the tear. The coat itself holding a certain amount of sentimental value.

"Um, look, Michael, I have to get to work," Rose told him, biting her lip.

"I'll come with you then," he said simply, lifting his head, eyes falling upon her.

"Look, Michael, I work at a bar. I'm sure you don't want to sit there all night long," she told him.

Honestly, she didn't mind the idea of him sticking around or wanting to keep an eye on her, but she was sure that he didn't want to sit around doing nothing for the next eight hours or so.

"I think I'd like to stick around for a bit," he told her, turning around her whole way of thinking in her head.

"Michael, you do realize that I'll be working for like the next eight hour, right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I don't mind," he assured her, a smile on his face.

This made her sigh, raking a hand through her hair.

"Alright, fine, but I need to head down to the office real quick," she told him, stuffing her key into her pocket along with her wallet.

She'd never really seen the purpose of using a purse, a messenger bag maybe, but never a purse. In fact, her messenger bag was in case she was too lazy to carry her jacket in her arms at times.

"Are you done with that?" she asked pointing to the beer bottle sitting on the coffee table.

"Yes," he said, nodding his head as he grabbed it up in the palm of his hand.

"Um, Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to put your coat back on?" she asked, giving him a curious look.

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"You know what, never mind," she sighed, grabbing her bag from near the door and walking outside.

Michael followed right behind her, closing the door behind him. There was a slightly humorous look on his face as he threw his coat on, eyeing the tear in the shoulder once more. He'd have to find some way of fixing. After all, it was originally a friend's and he didn't want to disgrace them by walking around with it torn up. Quinlan had never been an overly proud man, but he had taken care of his coat. Upon thinking of Quinlan, a smile formed on his face.

"Michael, you coming?" Rose called from the stairs.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he replied, following her down the steps at a steady pace, following her right to the office.

From there, he leaned over her and opened the door, allowing her first entrance into the office.

Inside the office was rather small. Although, it held a small TV and desk, along with a few filling cabinets. There still wasn't that much room though. Behind the desk though was an older man with graying hair and dark spots beneath his eyes.

"Mr. Rodgers?" Rose pipped up, knocking lightly against the wall beside her.

The man's head flew up as a result, looking as though he'd just been dozing off.

"Ah, Miss Meenal, how may I help you?" he greeted, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair in an attempt to make himself look more presentable.

"Actually, I came to ask you if I could get the lock on my apartment door changed?"

"May I ask why?" he inquired, watching as she rubbed her arm, not noticing the blaring bruise on her skin.

He didn't have his glasses on, so his vision was rather blurry, even though he still knew that it was Rose in front of him.

"Um, I had a rather _scary_ disagreement with my boyfriend," she started, glancing over at Michael for a second. "Jake has the only other key," she told him, watching his face carefully.

Henry sat there for a moment, squinting his eyes as he thought things over. He picked his glasses up a moment later and placed them on his head, eyes furrowing a moment later. That was also when he caught sight of Michael, tilting his head to the side.

"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" Henry asked, giving him a curious look.

"Possibly in the church," Michael offered, the answer being double ended in Rose's mind.

The way that Henry saw it was someone that he saw in church all the time, a person sitting in a seat near him. Michael's words insinuated the murals and stained glass windows that adorned the church, something that Rose hadn't quite processed. She knew he was an angel, but hadn't put together that he was _that _angel yet, an archangel. At the same time, she still knew that it was double ended.

"Rose, shouldn't be be going now?" Michael asked, pretending to look down at a watch that wasn't there.

"Huh?"

"The time," he reminded her, tapping his wrist.

"Oh crap!" she cried. "I'm sorry Mr. Rodgers, but I have to go," she told him, running out of the room.

"It was nice meeting you," Michael said, inclining his head politely, before walking out of the room.

That left Henry Rodgers sitting there scratching the back of his head, wondering about the two youngsters that had just left.

T

"Alright, Michael, take a seat," Rose said, walking around the back of the bar to start her shift, tossing her bag down underneath the counter.

As Michael sat down at the bar, she made quick work in pulling out glasses and rinsing out what had been left behind. It was like her body was on auto pilot almost, but she was still alert to everything around her.

"Hey, Rose, can I get another beer?" one of the regulars ask, coming to standing by Michael ask the bar.

"Sure Hal," she said, walking over to one of the coolers and pulling out a bottle of beer.

"Hey man," Hal greeted, turning toward Michael.

"Hey," he nodded, raising his hand slightly in acknowledgement.

"Here ya Hal, one cold beer," Rose announced, placing the bottle down on the counter.

Hal gave her a smile as he picked it up, twisting the cap off, before taking a swig. He let out a sigh of satisfaction a moment later, before handing over the money, tossing a few bills in the tip jar as well.

"Thanks sweetheart," he smiled, walking off a moment later.

Rose merely shook her head, picking up the discarded cap from the counter and tossing it in the trash a few feet away.

"Nice shot," Michael commented, leaning forward against the countertop.

"Thanks. You want one?" she asked, gesturing toward the stocked coolers behind her.

"I'd love one."

T

Before too long, things started picking up, leaving Rose running left and right all over the place. Either someone was wanting a beer or other drink or they were asking for food. This left her rather frazzled as Michael looked on, staying planted in his seat. Given how hectic things were, Rose hadn't even noticed the number of women keeping their eyes on Michael or the small smile that had risen on his face.

"Rose, can I get another beer?" Michael asked, leaning against the counter a bit more.

"Yeah, sure," she said automatically, grabbing one and handing it off to him before going into the kitchen to check on the cook.

While she was doing that, Michael stood and walked over to the wall, looking over the music selection. His eyes skimmed over everything, some things newer than others. They didn't have the same music here as they had during his last trip. Although, they did have a few older songs that were fairly nice, a few songs from the Beatles and Elvis catching his eye. Michael grinned at this as he stood there, pressing a couple buttons in until he had his song. In the end, he ended up picking a song an interesting song from the J. Geils Band called Centerfold. He didn't exactly care about the words, merely the beat that came out of the box as it played, giving him something to dance to.

"Got a dance for me honey?" a woman asked, walking up to him.

"Of course," he grinned, taking her hand and dancing around with her, various eyes following them around the room.

T

Once Rose got back from the kitchen, she found herself surprised. Before her, Michael stood out on the floor, dancing around with a dark haired woman. Even from where she stood, she could tell that there was something strange about it.

"What in the world?" she breathed, eyes glued to Michael's fluidly moving form.

The only problem was, he was dancing with the wife of a rather jealous man. That man in particular had his eyes glued to Michael, a scowl on his face.

"Michael," Rose groaned, walking forward from behind the bar to meet him.

Upon hearing his name, Michael turned around, a grin on his face.

"Ah, Rose, dance with me," he said, taking her by the hands and pulling her to him.

She felt her face heat up as he did this, her chest pressed up against his as he moved around, going back to the music player to choose another song.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she hissed, her embarrassment slowly catching up to her as she watch him punch in his selection.

A moment later, Close My Eyes Forever by Lita Ford and Ozzy Osbourne started playing, Michael pulling her back onto the floor.

"I'm dancing," he finally answered, gently gliding her around the room, her face heating up as a result.

"Michael, I'm supposed to be working," she said quietly, her hand on his shoulder.

He leaned down a second later, his breath on her ear.

"I know," he said, hearing her draw in a breath. "Although it won't kill you to dance with me," he chuckled, swinging her away for a moment, before pulling her back to him.

"Michael, I don't think..."

"Relax," he told her, lips pulling into a smile.

He could tell that she was embarrassed, but she need to learn to loosen up a bit. Otherwise, she'd get nowhere fast. He put that out of his mind though as she finally allowed herself to relax, her muscles loosening up a bit as she rested her head against his chest. This made him even happier, knowing that he'd actually accomplished something.

T

In the corner, Jake sat with a friend, eyeing the two dancing out on the floor. He'd come down to the bar and grill as soon as he'd gotten kicked out, feeling as though he needed a few drinks in his system to dull his emotions. It only made things worse though when she'd shown up with that man, _Michael_. There was no denying his handsome look and charisma, the way that he held himself. He held an obvious appeal to the ladies. Jake found himself despising the man though, a quiet growl emitting from his throat. He couldn't stand the thought of Rose being with someone else, another man at any rate.

"Hey, Jake, man, you okay?" his friend asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, just fine," he said, acting as though nothing were wrong.

"Hey, isn't that Rose?" John asked, pointing to the woman in the middle of the room.

"I hadn't even noticed," Jake supplied, standing from his seat and walking up toward the bar, the song slowly coming to an end, clapping echoing around them.

T

"Alright, I've danced with. Can I get back to work now?" Rose asked shyly, looking elsewhere.

"Of course," Michael nodded, letting her go as he leaned down into a small bow, watching her face heat up again.

"I'll...get you something to eat," she said quietly, going back over toward the kitchen and calling in an order.

After that, she went back to the bar, running a hand through her hair tiredly.

"Can I get a couple of shots over here?" a man called, catching her attention.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded, grabbing a bottle of liquor from the shelf beside her.

It was another regular, so she was used to his order, easily pouring the liquid into the glasses.

"There ya go," she said, turning back around and shelving the bottle.

Upon turning back around to the bar, she found Jake standing in front of her, an irritated look on his face.

"What are you doing here Jake?" she asked, hands curling at her sides.

"I just wanted to see you. After all, you _are_ my girlfriend," he reminded her, watching as she scowled.

"Not anymore I'm not," she said firmly, trying to move to the other end of the bar to help a customer.

Jake followed her though, pushing through the crowd of people.

"We need to talk Rose," he said, shoving someone out of the way.

"There's nothing to talk about, now leave," she told him, trying her best to ignore him. "How can I help you hun?" Rose asked, addressing the customer before her.

"Just a soda," he said, giving her a nod.

"Alright."

"Rose, we need to talk!" Jake yelled, taking the bottle in his hand and throwing it at the wall in front of her face.

A scream escaped her lips as it shattered in front of her, sending her backwards, the glass littering the floor. At the sound of her scream, everyone went silent, save for Jake.

"I said was need to talk!" he yelled, grabbing another bottle from the counter. "You can't just keep ignoring me!"

Again, he threw the at her, causing her to duck and fall in the process. She could feel the sharp pain as glass entered her palms, cutting the delicate skin. She barely even managed to bite back a cry as she pushed herself off of the floor, tears slipping down her face.

"Jake, stop it, you're drunk!" she yelled.

At this point, everyone had backed up, save for Michael. Michael stood right were he was, watching as things unfolded, mouth twitching slightly.

"No, I won't stop it!" Jake yelled. "Do you really think I'm going to put up with you hanging around on another man?" he cried out in a drunken rage.

"Look, man, I think you need to calm down," one man said warily, attempting to take a step forward.

"Stay back!" he yelled, breaking the bottom of another bottle and lashing out.

The man that had attempted to help jumped back, not wanting to get cut up. Michael didn't seem to get the hint thought, muttering something under his breath as he stepped forward.

"Stay back!" Jake yelled, quickly turning on Michael, jagged bottle in hand.

"Don't!" Rose cried out, causing Jake to whirl back around, an angry look on his face.

Michael took this chance to leap forward, gasps coming from the people around him. That gave Jake the heads up, quickly turning back around and for the first time ever, Michael found himself injured. A total of 6,034 battles and he'd never been injured. Now, it comes down to a broken bottle against his palm, a look of surprise dawning his features.

Michael didn't even move after being cut, merely standing there staring at the wound on his hand, the warm blood trickling down his wrist.

"Michael?" Rose whispered, slowly coming out from behind the bar, steps hesitant and slowly.

Her eyes landed on the blood staining his hand, a lump catching in her throat. It was obvious to her how shocked he was, same with everyone else.

"Michael?" she tried again, taking side steps in an attempt to keep her distance from Jake.

That only lasted though until Jake snapped out of it, glaring at her as he tried to grab at her. Before he could get his hand on her though, Michael reached out, grabbing his hold of his wrist tightly. There was a sour look on Michael's face, something different all together.

"Don't touch her," he said firmly, slowly twisting Jake's arm until he fell onto the floor. "Someone, get him out of here," Michael said, shoving him onto the floor.

Within seconds, Jake was hauled up onto his feet, quickly heading toward the door. The guys through him out without a second thought, all eyes now on Rose and Michael.

"Michael?" Rose squeaked, hand shaking.

Upon hearing his name, he turned toward her, giving her his full attention. He hadn't even noticed the amount of attention that had been given to him.

"Y-you're hurt," she whispered, looking down at his hand.

"So are you," he pointed out, reaching forward with his uninjured hand to take hold of hers.

"Alright people, nothing to see here, go back to your business!" the cook called out, waving his hands around the place.

**Chapter 3! Yay! Anyway, PLEASE let me know what you think? I'd love to hear feedback. Please, REVIEW and MESSAGE me with your thoughts, opinions, ideas, and feelings on his chapter/story? I need feedback to know that I'm doing a good job. Anyway thanks for reading. I've also got stories for the OUTSIDERS, X-MEN, FINAL FANTASY 7, OF MICE AND MEN, KNIGHT HUNTERS WEISS KREUZ, and MORE!**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Call**

**Chapter 4**

**There's A First Time For Everything**

"I'm really sorry about all this Michael," Rose apologized, sitting beside him on one of the chairs at the end of the bar.

Her hands still hurt after pulling the glass out. She now had bandages wrapped around her hands as she attempted to clean up Michael's. Jake had done a pretty good job of slicing his hand open, leaving a bloody mess in its wake.

"Does it hurt?" she asked quietly, daring to look up at him.

"A bit," he nodded.

"Like I said, I'm really sorry Michael."

"Don't be," he smiled, placing his other hand on top of hers. "It's not your fault," he assured her.

"But..." she stared, trying to get something else out.

"Nope, don't want to hear it," he told her, before closing his eyes and taking in a breath, the nerves in his hand felling like they were on fire as she dabbed alcohol at the cut.

"Sorry," she whispered, pulling the cloth back away from his hand.

"You're fine," he assured her. "I just...never expected to feel something like this," he admitted.

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"6,360 battles and no injures, until now that is," he explained.

"Wait, what?"

Now, she was confused.

"I'm an archangel, it's what I do Rose," he told her, looking down at his hand.

He still couldn't understand it. After all those battles, he was finally injured by a broke bottle. It's something that shouldn't have happened, yet somehow, it did.

"Wait a minute, that means, you're..."

He couldn't help, but to grin at the look on her face. She was completely stunned.

"You're...you're the Archangel Michael?" she asked, already knowing the answer to her question, yet she still voiced it anyway.

"Yep, that's me," he chuckled.

"But...but..." she had to take a breath in before continuing. "Out of all the angels in heaven, why did they sent you?" she asked. "Someone as important as you?"

Now, was his turn to explain, not caring if anyone heard him or not. He leaned forward nonetheless, his voice a bit on the quiet side, though it was not deliberate.

"Rose, you called out for help, you were in need. So, they sent me," he told her. "I was sent down to help you and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Although," he started, a smile pulling at his lips. "Apparently, it's going to be a two way street."

"Apparently," she nodded, brushing her fingertips lightly against the palm of his hand, watching him twitch for a moment.

At this point, the wound was clean, merely leaving her to wrap it up. It still bothered her to look at it though, feeling disappointment in herself for allowing something like this to happen. Granted, he had told her that it wasn't her fault, but she still couldn't help but to feel the way that she did. Jake was her problem, not Michael's, and yet somehow she'd managed to drag him right into the mess that was her stressful life.

Sensing her hesitation, Michael looked back down at her, a curious look on his face. He only made it look curious though. He knew what the problem was, but he let her finish wrapping his hand first, her small ones easily maneuvering around his large one.

"Alright, my turn," he said, pulling his hand away from hers after she was done, shocking her slightly.

True, her hands were already wrapped, but she'd done a poor job at it. She'd been more worried about helping him that she hadn't taken the proper time to wrap her own hands. So, taking hers in his, unwrapped the already reddened material.

The moment they were free from their bandages, her hands started to bleed again. He also noticed that not all of the glass had been removed, his eyes catching sight of a few small shards here and there.

"Hm..." he started, running a finger over one of her hands, inspecting it for a moment.

"What?" she asked, a worried look on her face.

That soon changed though as she winced, Michael's fingernails gripping a small bit of glass and pulling it free, the small shard glinting red in the light.

"Ow..." she whined, watching the smirk on his face.

"You didn't do a very good job of cleaning up," he pointed out, teasing her just a bit.

A sour look appeared on her face as she looked away, feeling slightly inferior compared to him.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, catching her attention.

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I offended you."

"Michael..." she bit her lip. "You didn't offend me," she told him, standing up after a moment. "I'm just..." she paused for a moment, chancing a glance at him. "I'm not used to the kind of kindness that you've been...lavishing me with," she said, trying to place her words properly.

"Are people not supposed to treat others with kindness?" Michael asked, watching as her fingers curled around her arm.

"That's not what I meant," she said, voice slightly frustrated as she retied the bandage around her hand, walking back behind the bar.

Michael watched as she grabbed a shot glass, wiping it down with a cloth with practiced ease, before sitting it down on a tray. She repeated the action several more times before giving up and going back around the bar, her goal set on gathering up all the empty beer bottles laying around and throwing them away. She did this for every table, Michael watching her all the while, the sound of glass clinking and clattering in the trash bins.

"Excuse me," Rose said, reaching passed a few customers to grab a set of empty bottles.

Heading back toward the other side of the room, she dropped the two bottle into one of the bins as well, before leaning up against a post to watch those around her. For 10 minutes she did this, eyes closing for another five as she listened to the sounds around her. Surprisingly enough though, she didn't hear Michael coming up behind her, jumping upon feeling his hand on her shoulder.

"Rose?"

"W-what is it Michael?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

"You look tired," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, casting her eyes out at the crowd, the crowd that seemed so lively. Unlike her.

"I'm always tired Michael," she admitted, closing her eyes once more.

What she told him was true. Rose was always tired, she'd been that way for years. Stress probably had a factor in it, but that was nothing new. Her health wasn't that great either to be honest, but that was because she had a weak immune system, something that she couldn't control. It was just something that she had been born with. Unfortunately though, it never made things easy for her, she just hid them well is all.

"Perhaps, I should walk you back home?"

She shook her head.

"Not yet," she told him, taking in a breath, leaning her head back against the post.

She let it back out a moment later, opening her eyes as looked over at the wall, the neon clock glowing green and orange. It was almost time for her to leave, she just had to wait a bit longer. Then, after the clock hit it's mark, she'd be allowed to leave.

"Michael?" she asked suddenly, turning her head to look at him, a tired look in her eyes.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I know that you stay with me in that motel last night, but...where are you staying tonight?" she asked, giving him a curious look.

"Actually, I hadn't thought about that," he said truthfully, a thoughtful look on his face as he thought about it.

"Um, you could always stay at my place," she offered. "I don't really mind."

What she was offering was genuine and Michael knew that without a doubt. Granted, there were two reasons for it. One was the obvious, not wanting to leave him out on his own. She wouldn't have felt right about doing that to him. The second reason for offering it was because he actually made her feel safe. After seeing him with Jake, she knew that she'd have no problems. She was also fairly sure that Michael would cause her no troubles if she allowed him to stay. After all, other than Jake, she'd never really had anyone stay at her place. She figured that perhaps, it was time to change that and help Michael like he had helped her. He'd given her a place to stay for a night, so she'd do the same for him.

"You'd really do that?" he asked, testing her words to make sure that she was certain.

Rose nodded her head in reply, closing her eyes for a short moment as she took in another breath. Her chest hurt a bit.

"Yes, I'm sure," she told him, pushing away from the post, turning around to look at him properly. "After all, it's the least that I can do for you."

T

"Alright, just give me a minute and I'll set things up," she told him, moving around her apartment.

She went into her room, grabbing a pillow from the bed, before gathering a couple of blankets from the corner. She then walked back into the living room, dropping the pillow down onto the coffee table, and making the couch up.

Michael watched her carefully as she tucked the edges in, smoothing everything out so that it fit. She was so precise with everything, making sure that it was done right so that he'd be comfortable.

"Okay, that should do it," she smiled, resting the other blanket down at the end of the couch, the pillow now at the other end. "Um, I'm going to make some tea, would you like some?" she asked.

"I'd love some," he grinned, following her into the kitchen, sitting down in one of the chair.

Rose merely nodded her head, going about the task of making tea. Granted, she was tired, but she needed something to help her relax a bit. So, she ran the water hot till it was steaming, filling the pot up. She then placed it on the stove, turning the burner over, the heat slowly radiating out and into the pot. Once that was done, she went over to the drawer, pulling it out to look through her tea stash. The tea inside ranged from black china tea, all the way to red teas. She drew out a black tea with cinnamon in it though, feeling a need for the reassuring aroma.

"I hope you like cinnamon," she called over her shoulder, pulling the small plastic bag out and setting it on the counter.

"Cinnamon is perfect," he replied, propping his elbow up on the table to watch her.

Her routine seemed so simple and natural as she opened the bag, grabbing a measuring spoon and scooping a portion out. He then watched with interest as she distributed it into a small metal mesh ball, closing the clasp on it and dropping it into the steaming pot.

"You know, normally, people just use tea bags," he told her, chin resting in the palm of his hand.

"Yes, but I like it this way. It gives me a bit more freedom with it," she explained, carefully placing the bag of mixed tea back into the drawer with the others.

She then closed the drawer up, bringing a hand to her lips as she bit back a yawn, completely missing the look that Michael gave her. Instead, she moved to the refrigerator, pulling out a few things for sandwiches. Without knowing it, she peaked his interest, his eyes following her as she went back over to the counter.

"What's that?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"Ham and cheese," she said simply, pulling a couple of sandwich plates from the cabinet.

She then took the tie off of the bread, placing two slices on each plate, before putting it back up. Next was the ham, placing a few pieces on one, while pilling it up on the other. After that, she placed the cheese, before putting both the ham and cheese back in the refrigerator.

"Alright, dig in," she said, walking back over to the table and setting one of the plates down in front of him.

She watched as his eyes widened, a goofy grin on his face as he took the sandwich into his hand and bit into it. It looked like he was in heaven the moment that it hit his taste buds.

"I guess you like it then?" she asked offhandedly, biting back another yawn as she went back over to the counter, leaning back on it as she watched him.

Michael nodded his head, making no verbal reply as he chowed down on the sandwich, swallowing it in large bites. She hadn't seen someone look that hungry in a while. Either that or Michael just loved ham and cheese sandwiches.

"You might want to try chewing," she told him, taking a small bite from her own sandwich and swallowing it. "Wouldn't want you to choke."

"Of course not," he replied, a bit of food still in his mouth as he spoke, nearly causing her to roll her eyes.

She'd have to teach him some table manners when she got the chance. The thought in itself made her laugh though, Michael's head tilting to the side slightly as he looked at her, a curious look on his face.

"It's nothing," she assured him, turning toward the tea pot as it began to whistle. "Alright, time for tea," she yawn, pulling it off the burner and bringing it over to the table, placing a pot holder underneath it.

At the same time, she made sure that Michael didn't touch it, grabbing a couple of iced glasses from the freezer. It always helped to cool down fresh hot tea, leaving it warm enough to drink, but not hot enough to quite burn. It was something that she had picked up from her grandparents.

"Do you have sugar?" Michael asked, swallowing another bite of food.

"Yeah, I'll get it," Rose nodded, grabbing the bag of sugar off of the counter in the corner.

She came back over and placed it down in front of him along with a spoon. After that, she poured the tea into the glasses, steam pouring off of them as they met the icy edges of the cups.

"Thank you," Michael nodded, grabbing his spoon and scooping up a big spoon full of sugar.

Rose watched him the entire time as he dumped spoon after spoon of sugar into the cup, the sweet granules dissolving into the brew, white mist forming on top of the liquid. It was the same concept as hot chocolate.

"You must like sugar," she commented, before taking another bite out of her sandwich.

"You can never have too much sugar," he stated in a matter of fact way, a happy look on his face.

"I'm sure," she mumbled quietly, before letting out another yawn.

She was so tired, sitting at the table across from him as she ran a hand through her hair. After that her hand never left, staying tangled in her dark tresses as she sipped at her tea, her eyelids growing heavy. The tea was doing its job, clearing her mind while at the same time making it a bit clouded.

"Rose?" Michael called, making her eyes snap back upon.

"Yeah?" she asked, only halfway awake at this point, eyes already starting to close again as she tried to concentrate on his face.

The only problem was, it kept blurring, melding together with the colors around him. If it weren't for the fact that she was so tired, she might have found it kind of funny looking, but that was beside the point.

"Perhaps you should go to bed now?" he suggested, looking over her face for a moment.

"Mmhm," she murmured, only partially hearing him as she breathed out her answer.

She was falling asleep again, the only thing holding her up being the hand that was tangled in her hair, her elbow supporting its weight against the table top. There was no way she was going to make it back to her room, she was even awake enough to let out a proper response. So, making up his mind, Michael stood. He stood, walking over to her side of the table, carefully wrapping an arm around her.

"Mmm..." was her response as she fell against him, his grip tightly only slightly as he pulled her closer, until she was finally in his arms.

Her head fell backward as she laid in his arms, her breath going in and out at a steady pace. At this point she was pretty much out like a light, Michael being the only reason why she came to lay on her bed, his hand gently brushing away the bit of hair that covered her eyes.

"Good night, Rose," Michael whispered, before quietly walking out of the room and closing the door behind him, the light soon turning into nothing as it left the room in blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Call**

**Chapter 5**

**Nightmare**

"No!" Rose cried, jolting up in bed, a cold sweat sticking against her skin. "Wha...?" she breathed, running a hand through her hair.

She sat there for a moment, trying to clear her head. The dream that she'd had, it had been so real. She had practically felt everything around her, the pain of glass shattering against her, the crushing of a car door. It had scared the life out of her. Even stranger, Michael had been in her dream, sitting in the back of the car. He hadn't seemed to be as hurt as she had, but he still had a bit of blood trickling down the side of his forehead. Rose on the other hand, she had scratches all over the place, blood on her hands. She could still feel the sting of her forehead.

"So real," she whispered, looking down at her hands void of blood, for the most part any way.

The only thing there, were bandages, slightly stained with the blood from the previous night. They were the bandages that Michael had helped fix.

"Michael..." she breathed, raising her head to look toward the door, her brain still aching at the images in her head.

She had to be sure, to settle her mind, be sure that he was alright. So, she slowly got to her feet, walking barefoot upon the carpet toward the door. Her hand reached out, gripping the cool metal with a shiver, before turning it. She had to be sure. Upon entering the living room, she found the answer to her question.

There, on the couch the archangel lay, laying flat on his stomach upon the cushions. His face was peaceful as he laid there, a faint snore escaping his lips, his right arm hanging off of the couch.

She couldn't help, but to let a small smile pull upon her face as she looked at him, reaching forward and brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. She'd never felt so at ease with someone as she did around him at this point. She figured it probably had to do with the fact that he was an angel, but at the same time, she felt as though it were something else. Regardless, it seemed normal to her, the clock by the TV reading 5:03.

"It's too early for this," she sighed quietly, glancing over at the kitchen.

She still had some leftover tea sitting in the teapot on the stove, it was something that could give her a bit of relief. So, relinquishing any further thought on the matter she turned toward the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the counter.

**T**

From where he lay, Michael could hear the footsteps leaving Rose's room, her breath uneven as she entered the living room. To be honest, he'd woken up when she did, hearing her cry out. No doubt a bad dream. Still, she seemed frazzled upon entering the living room, not even realizing that he was actually awake. Granted, his continued snoring gave her the impression that he was still aimlessly sleeping away the early morning hours.

His body remained still as she approached, looking at her through his eyelashes, making sure to keep his eyes closed enough so as not to draw attention. It was hard to remain so though when she reached her hand out, fingers brushing the skin of his face as she pushed away the strands of hair that threatened to obscure his vision. Her touch was soft and gentle. He was so tempted to open his eyes and look at her fully, just to see the look on her face.

"It's too early for this," he heard her sigh, her eyes turning toward the clock by the TV, the current time reading 5:03 AM.

Indeed, it was too early, but that meant little to Michael as he continued to watch her. In fact, after she had gone into the kitchen, he'd reached behind him. His fingers then grabbed hold of a feather that had been protruding into his back, plucking it from his skin and tossing it to the ground.

"Much better," he grinned, his voice not even traveling remotely far enough for anyone to hear.

After that, he fell back asleep, keeping his ears open for any problems.

**T**

"Man, I'm tired," Rose yawned, placing a hand over her mouth.

She'd been up for the last two hours, mind still running a mile a minute. She still couldn't get the dream out of her head and yet she desperately wished for sleep. Her tea had done little for her to her dismay, leaving her sitting at the small round table in her kitchen, the whole time staring over at Michael.

"What it's like to sleep," she sighed, running a hand over her face.

She was then reminded of his coat, standing up from her chair and going back to her room. If she was going to fix it, then she was going to need a needle and thread. Both of which resided in her bedroom on the dresser, the needle sticking out of the paper at the top of the spool. After that, she walked back into the living room, quietly lifting his coat from the coffee table. The only thing left sitting being his shirt and pants for which had been neatly folded and placed at one end.

She looked down at him again as she stood there, coat in hand. At this point, his leg was hanging off of the couch a bit, joining his arm. The sight itself was rather amusing in her eyes, reminding her of a child laying peacefully on the edge of a bed. Although, she had to remind herself that he was far from a child. Even though he seemed to have odd mannerisms, he was still a man.

**T**

30 minutes later saw Rose at the table, needle still threading through fabric as she continued to stitch the edges of the tear back together, making sure it was nice and tight. What she'd done so far wasn't going to come loose any time soon, that was for sure.

"Almost done," she smiled, turning the material in her hands a couple of times, inspecting it.

That was when she heard a groan from the couch, the sound of springs creaking meeting her ears. He was waking up.

"Good morning, Michael," she greeted, watching as he sat up, standing from the couch.

She felt her cheeks heat up slightly as she saw him standing there in only his boxers, the white, red spotted material easily standing out against his skin.

"Good morning," he yawned, stretching his arms above his head as he arched his back, an audible pop being heard.

"I trust you slept well?" she asked, keeping her eyes on his face as he walked toward her, tilting his head to the side curiously as he looked at what she was doing.

"You're fixing it?" he asked, blinking a couple times.

"Yes, I figured it was the least I could do," she told him. "Besides, it wasn't like I had anything else to do," she sighed. "I couldn't go back to sleep anyway."

"And why is that?" he asked, taking a seat in the chair across from her.

"I...I had a bad dream," she told him, looking back down at the coat as she made another stitch, the needle coming close to her finger.

"Explain," he said simply.

"What?"

"Explain," he repeated.

"The dream?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," he nodded, watching her closely.

"Well, I..." she started, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Well."

"Just start at the beginning," he told her, gesturing with a hand.

Rose sighed at this, placing the coat down on the table, before standing up. She wrapped her arms around herself as she stood there, closing her eyes for a moment as she drew in a breath.

"I'm not sure where it started," she told him, running a hand over her face. "I just...I remember being in a car. I don't know where I was going. I was just driving," she said, replaying it in her head. "You were in the car too, in the back," she told him, turning around to face him.

Their eyes met, Michael watching her every move.

"We were talking," she breathed. "I don't know what it was about, just talking," she said simply.

Her mind went back to the scene of the crash, her light green as the other was red. A car came flying toward them. She was unable to stop.

"Rose?"

She jumped, looking over at Michael, her nails pressing painfully into the palms of her hands.

"Huh?"

"What happened next?" he asked, staring at her expectantly.

"I...there was a crash," she told him, her eyes slowly becoming unfocused. "It was so real," she whispered, looking down at her hands.

She saw blood, where as Michael saw bandages. There was nothing there, but her mind told her that there was, the sting of glass making her cringe.

"Rose."

She snapped out of it, only to find Michael in front of her, standing there before her. His eyes held a concerned look as he stared down at her, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders.

"I-I'm sorry," she said quickly. "It's nothing. Let's just forget about it."

With that, she slowly pulled away, feeling the warmth of his hands leave her shoulders. She had tried to do as he asked, explaining herself, but was all that she could manage to do.

"Perhaps, you should put your pants back on," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Michael laughed at this, a smile pulling onto his face.

"Why, does it bother you?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

"Go get dressed and I'll fix breakfast," she told him, moving over to the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of eggs.

He didn't say anything else, grabbing his clothes from the coffee table and going into the bathroom, the sound of the bathroom door closing meeting her ears. Next, was the sound of liquid landing in the toilet.

"Lord, give me strength," she muttered, moving over to the stove and turning on the burner, cracking the eggs in the skillet.

The sound of popping easily met her ears as they cooked in the skillet, the white being the first to cook through. She then added a pinch of pepper on top, turning them over after a couple minutes, and what was once thin goop became solid.

"There, I'm dressed," she heard Michael say proudly, stepping out of the bathroom now fully clothed.

"Good. Now, sit back down and we'll eat," she said, grabbing two plates and dumping the eggs onto them.

She then walked back over to the table, turning the burner off before hand, laying the plates down onto the table with the silverware.

"Mmm, this looks good," Michael said, rubbing his hands together happily.

"Well, I would hope so," Rose said quietly, taking a seat at the table. "Well, eat up," she urged, watching him pick up his fork a moment later, though not before taking his spoon and dumping sugar all over his food.

This left Rose watching him with skepticism, a brow raised in question at his strange choice.

"What in the world are you doing?" she asked.

"Adding sugar," he told her as though it were the most obvious thing ever. "You can never have too much sugar," he pointed out.

"Okay, whatever," she sighed, shaking her head as she turned back to her own food, placing a bite in her mouth. /p

At the same time, Michael began shoving his into his mouth, bits of yolk rolling down his chin. He was such a messy eater that it left Rose dumb founded. It also had her getting up from the table and grabbing a paper towel, blatantly coming back over and wiping his face off, a grin twitching up on his mouth in response. This let Rose know that he knew exactly what he was doing.

"You are so strange!" she exclaimed, dropping back down into her chair to eat, staring at him all the while.

Michael's response was to smile at her, shrugging as he gulped down what was in his mouth. In all reality, it was almost like a game to him, something fun to do. It was fun to get a reaction out of her like that.


End file.
